Too Much To Take
by NAWHdinosaurs
Summary: The official re-write. Sum: The Professor has brain damage and no longer acts kindly toward the girls, it causes them to become depressed in their own ways. The RRB show up to rob them, will they help or make things worse?
1. The Beginning of the End

_Well, I decided to re-write 'Too Much To Take' before I start the sequel, which at this point doesn't have a plot what so ever but will have the title 'Too Far To Run.' It may or may not be a crossover, probably not because I'm kind of out of my KND phase…so yeah. I hope this is better than the first one. :D_

_**I don't own the Powerpuff girls. (this won't be mentioned again, so remember it)**_

_Hope you like!_

* * *

_'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' -Lewis Carroll_

* * *

You know, I used to think we'd have the perfect life forever. I used to think we'd always wake up to the smell of fresh pancakes. I thought our dad would always be nice and friendly. I thought my smile would never turn to a frown, we would always be that perfect happy family, forever.

But, we're not.

We live in that house you're afraid to walk by. We're the neighbors you wouldn't dare talk to. We still save your life, but you can hear our dad yelling about it into the night. From outside you can hear him, yelling and cursing, hitting and throwing, you don't want to know exactly what's going on inside, and I don't blame you. _I _don't want to know what's going on inside…but I do. I watch it. It happens to me. It happens to my sisters. We take it. We take it over and over again, and to tell you the truth… It's just… it's _too much to take. _

You probably know the professor, yeah the guy that made us, our father, our creator, that guy. You probably remember him being the nicest, best father ever…and he _was. _But not anymore… Not since that accident.

It was a dark night, too dark to see your hand in front of your face. The professor was driving on the black pavement, going a bit too fast and not paying enough attention. He rear-ended the car in front of him, hard. He wasn't wearing his seat belt and he flew through the wind shield, landing head first on a boulder. When we got the call from the hospital, my sisters and I rushed to his room. The doctor said he suffered severe head trauma, but he was alive. He said that his head was damaged greatly, but they didn't know how or if it would affect anything. The doctor waited until the professor woke up and than he ran a few tests on him, the professor checked clean. He was perfectly healthy.

Or so we thought.

As soon as we were able to take him home, as soon as we walked in that private area, he changed. He changed for the worse and we knew, even that early, that the man we knew as our dad, was never coming back.


	2. A Monday

_Another moment, _

_Another lie._

_Another life,_

_Another why._

_Another time,_

_Another say._

_Another place,_

_Another way._

_Another chance,_

_Another mystery._

_Another day,_

_Another misery._

…

"Bubbles! Get the fuck down here and make me some breakfast!" I groan softly as I wake to the sound of my father's voice. My ears ring a little from the noise, but I ignore it. I quickly toss on some clothes, not bothering to look nice, before heading downstairs to the kitchen. My father glares at me as I enter; I give him a small nod before starting his breakfast. I exchange glances with Blossom as she scrubs the dishes clean, carelessly immersing her hands in the burning water. It leaves her hands red and raw, but she doesn't seem to care. I start the eggs as Buttercup comes down the stairs, her frame looks weak and boney like she hadn't eaten in weeks. In fact…_Had _she eaten? I don't remember… Dad looks angrily at Buttercup,

"Clean the damn living room," he commands. Buttercup remains in her place, almost frozen.

"Get your fat ass in the living room and clean that damn mess!" he shouts at her, she clenches her fists, trying to keep it together, as she walks into the living room. I hope she's alright, she's very self-conscious about her weight…

I pour the now finished eggs onto a plate for my father. I set it in front of him at the dining room table. He smirks at his food before patting my arm in a way of thanks, the only problem is he pats _hard_. It feels more like he's slapping me and I'm displeased to find that it leaves a bruise.

"Bubbles! Buttercup! Come on, the bus will be here soon!" Blossom calls from the front door. I grab my dirty light blue back pack and join my sisters as we walk out the door and to the bus stop.

There is a shared sigh of relief as we walk ever farther away from the house, ever farther away from him. I rub my new bruise subconsciously as we wait in silence.

Finally the dull, yellow bus pulls up in front of us. We walk on slowly, sitting in the very front seats and letting the bus driver take us away, further still away from him.

High school is like a haven to me. No one knows about our dad, I doubt many people care. Here, we're just some other teenagers, famous life saving teenagers, but teenagers none the less. My sisters and I part ways with a simple, 'bye, see you at lunch.' I walk through the crowds with ease heading to Spanish five, my first hour.

"Hey, Bubbles!" My friend Dina greets me as I take my seat beside her. I give her a smile as I take my Spanish binder out of my backpack.

"Hey, Dina, what's up?" I ask casually.

She shrugs, "nothing much, what's up with you?" I sigh, subconsciously touching my bruise again.

"Nothing," I smile. The bell rings and we turn our attention to Mr. Henry as he starts today's lesson.

The bell rings again and Dina and I head to choir together. I walk quietly as Dina talks excitedly about something her family did last weekend. We arrive at the choir room a little early, but that's fine. I put my backpack under my chair and Dina does the same with hers. She starts another conversation and I pretend to be interested until class starts once again.

The teacher dismisses us for our open half, we head to the cafeteria while the other 10th grade choir fills the room.

I sit sullenly at the table with Dina, Tabby, Olivia, and Abby while they talk about seeing a movie this Friday. They invite me, but I decline, making up an excuse about being too busy. I glance at my bruise and they follow my eyes. Abby gasps loudly.

"Oh my gosh! Bubbles, where did you get that bruise?" she asks worriedly, I wave it off.

"I'm fine, it's doesn't hurt. I ran into the bookcase this morning is all," I lie. Olivia laughs.

"Better be more careful," she warns. I smile.

"Yeah," I whisper in agreement. I shut my eyes and grip my wrists while they move on to a different subject. I take a deep breath and try to control it, try to not feel like I need it… but I do.

The bell rings and I head to lunch, the other girls head to their next class as they have a different lunch than I do. I walk into the lunch room and grab a tray of unappetizing looking food. I take a seat at a table with my sisters, Blossom smiles at me while Buttercup gives me a small nod.

I whisper, "hey," before taking a bite of my grilled cheese. Blossom sips her soup slowly and Buttercup plays with her water bottle.

I finish my sandwich and take a few sips of my milk. I glance towards my stomach and the feeling accelerates. I look over at Blossom as she returns of dumping her tray,

"I have to use the washroom, I'll be right back," I tell her. She nods and Buttercup sighs,

"Whatever," she says hitting her near fill water bottle on the table again. I grab my backpack and head to the girl's restroom; I head into a stall and lock the door. I gently lift baby blue t-shirt up to wear I can clearly see my belly button and all the other scars…The scars that I made. I take a pair of scissors out of my backpack and press the blade to my skin. I get goose bumps at the cold metal on my pale skin. I swipe it across making sure it leaves a trail of red blood cells. I exhale in relief and despair. When did I start needing that so bad, since when did cutting myself help me get through the day? I force the tears to stay in my eyes as I put the scissors back in my back pack and slide my shirt down. I flush the toilet in case anyone else was in the washroom. I grab my backpack and walk to the sink to wash my hands.

I return to the lunch room, it doesn't look like Buttercup nor Blossom missed me. Buttercup's water bottle has a few more sips missing but her food remains untouched. I nod toward her and she grabs her tray as I grab mine. We head to the trash can together and throw our food away. We return to Blossom in silence. She sighs, checking her watch

"We have five minutes until we have to be at our next class, want to just go early?" she asks. I nod, my hand uneasily resting on my stomach.

"Sure," I state. Buttercup stands.

"Let's go," she says, grabing her back pack. I follow her as she leads the way to the girl's locker room, as we have gym together for third hour. We change before heading into the gym. My sisters and I take a seat on the bleachers as we wait for the class to start. I look toward Buttercup, seeing her in short shorts and a short t-shirt really makes me notice just how skinny she has gotten. I swear you could see every bone in her body... It's almost scary. She has a bruise here or there, but nothing major. Though she does have a scar on her cheek from when dad slapped her because she was 'too rebellious.' Blossom is a different story; she has more bruises than I ever noticed. Seeing her in a shorter shirt makes me notice the burns on her arms, from what? I don't know, but they're pretty bad. Though I'm sure I don't look much better. I have the bruise I got this morning, plus a couple on my legs, plus the few cuts I have on my writs…Those were my first cuts, people had asked me about them because they were in plain view. Soon after, I started cutting on my stomach, hiding them under my shirt. People generally ignore us in this class, I think for two reasons: One, we have super powers and beat everyone at everything, Two, like I said, I'm not sure exactly how 'healthy' we looked.

The class ends quickly and we change back to our normal clothes. The girls mock me in the locker room about how I refuse to take my shirt off in front of them. They think I'm self conscious…but I'm not really…I just…don't want to talk about my scars and cuts. My sisters and I part again, me heading toward Math. I get there a few seconds before the bell rings. Mr. K smiles and enthusiastically starts the class. I stare at the board and pretend to pay attention.

Finally school's over.

Don't get me wrong, as I said before school is a haven. It's nice, but it's the walk home from school that I really love. It's that one time of day where there's no one there. No dad to being awful to, no friends you're telling lies to, just my sisters and I, walking in peace, free to be who we really are. I find myself skipping this particular day, the sun is shining a bit brighter than normal and it makes me smile. Blossom smiles widely at me,

"Good to see you're in a good mood," she says happily. I laugh easily with her.

"Yup" I reply. Buttercup gives me a short smile.

"What's so good about today, than?" she asks, I shrug.

"I don't know, the sun's shining and it just gives me this good feeling, like something great is going to happen," I try to explain. Blossom nods slowly,

"Well, I do have some good news," she says as we turn the block heading toward our drive way.

"And what's that?" asks Buttercup. Blossom smiles, pointing to the empty drive way,

"Dad's not home."

We smile widely at each other, running to the door in joy. We step inside the house and lock the door behind us, happy to be without him for a moment. We head to out separate rooms to maybe finish our homework in silence for once. I open the door to my blue and blood stained room. Being in there gave me an iron taste in my mouth, I couldn't say I liked that, but I could probably say I needed it.

I pack away my science homework as I hear a car pull into our drive way. I hear someone get out and stomp their way to the front door. They bang on it loudly and wait a moment, I don't make a move to answer the door, nor do my sisters as he swears and fumbles around for his keys.

Finally the door opens and we are greeted by our father with the ever nice, "why the hell didn't you get the god damn door!"


	3. Robbed of Silence

_lightly, lightly,  
the night calls me to sleep  
softly, softly,  
it bids me good dreams  
but how can I sleep,  
when I know in my heart  
that my head keeps on wishing  
that we were far apart.  
A day filled with you,  
is filled with regret.  
That is why  
I can't sleep yet._

…

Night. God, how I love the night, the silence. It gives me time to think, think about how it's just one more year. One more year before I can leave this awful, awful man I call my father.

One more year.

God, this silence is so relaxing, it lets me forget about the day…forget about him. I sigh, closing my eyes for just a moment and letting them rest. Just as my consciousness starts to slip, a loud crash is heard from downstairs. I jump out of bed and run down the hall, praying to God it's not my father, praying he hasn't snapped enough to actually_ hit_ us.

At the base of the stairs I'm relived to see my sisters, Buttercup looking as pale as ever and Bubbles shirt stained a little red.

"What's going on down there?" Bubbles asks worriedly, afraid to turn to the noise. Buttercup rolls her eyes, glaring down the stairs. I follow her gaze to find three boys, looking around our age, holding piles of our valuables.

"What are you doing?" I asks, an accusing tone in my voice. They drop the items out of their hands with a small crash.

"Just…_dropping _by," a redhead answers, the other two snickering at his small pun. I roll my eyes as he adjusts the red hat on top his head in a cocky fashion. Buttercup crosses her arms, ignoring Bubbles as she hides behind her.

"Yeah, we see that," she mocks, "now, get out!" Her voice rings a little through the hall, I turn to her, silently telling her to be quieter with my eyes. If she's too loud, she may wake our father and I don't even want to imagine what he might do is he wakes up.

"Nah," a black haired boy answers, leaning comfortably against a wall, "we like it here, it's chill."

"Please leave?" Bubbles whimpers, still hiding behind Buttercup.

"Sorry," a blonde answers, glancing at her briefly before meeting the eyes of the boy in the hat, "can't." Buttercup groans, obviously growing in anger.

"Buttercup," I soothe, desperately trying to keep her from yelling, "calm do-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS HOUSE, NOW!" she screeches, ignoring my warnings.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN THERE!"

"damn it," I mutter, watching as he walks down the hall, clad in only sleep pants, showing off his growing old belly and still slightly muscular arms.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks, gesturing with a nod to the boys on the first floor.

"Brick," the red head answers, adjusting his hat again as he stares up at my father. "Butch," he continues, pointing at the black haired boy leaning against a wall, "and Boomer," he indicates to the blonde boy as said boy stares up at Bubbles as she still hides behind Buttercup

Wait, Brick, Butch, and Boomer?

"The Rowdyruff Boys?" I wonder out loud.

Brick smirks, sending me a wink as he says, "you got it, dollface."

I share a glance with my sisters, I can't believe they're here! I can't believe they tried to _rob_ us! What is wrong with them? Why are we just standing here? Why aren't we destroying them like we always would? I glance at my father, watching as he glares down at the boys, fists clenched at his sides…What is wrong with us?

"Girls," my father speaks, eyes locked on Brick, "go to your rooms." Buttercup shakes her head.

"I'm not going anyway," she states, not noticing the way Butch stares at her. Dear Buttercup, stop pushing his anger, he's just going to yell more and louder!

"GET YOUR FAT ASS TO YOUR ROOM NOW, BUTTERCUP!" he screams. Buttercup clenches her jaw, he face tight as she stares at him. I can only imagine how much she must want to cry… I stare at her, conveying with my eyes what she already knows…One more year. One more year…

Buttercup withdraws, slamming the door to the bathroom loudly enough to shake the house. I glance at Butch skeptically as he stares after her, wondering what the hell is going through his mind.

"Daddy," I hear Bubbles whisper, "what are you going to do to them?" It's a ridiculous concern, the Rowdyruff Boys have _super powers_, our father, does not. But still…

"You're not going to hurt them, are you?" I ask, cautious of his temper.

"Of course I am! They're fucking trespassing in my house!" he yells, I watch out of the corner of my eye as the boys get in a fighting stance.

"DADDY, NO!" Bubbles screams, falling to her knees in front of him. She clutches his legs, begging, "please, don't hurt them, please! Please! PLEASE!" Her tears fall to the floor pitifully. I notice as Boomer steeps towards, only to have Brick hold him back. "They're only here because….because…"

"Because we invited them," shit, did I just say that?

"Oh," he snorts, glancing again at the boys, "I see. Fine, you little whores can have your boys for the night, but _I am_ talking to them in the morning," he glares at the boys one last time before leaning much to close to my face. "If I wake up one more time," he whispers, his hot disgusting breath hitting my face, "you take the punishment," his tone is threatening and I can only stare after him as he walks down the hall and back into his room.

I exhale in relief as Bubbles tries to regain her breath.

"You didn't have to do that," Brick speaks, watching bitterly as I help Bubbles to her feet. "We would've been fine."

"I didn't do it for you," I respond forcefully, "I did it for Bubbles and to finally get some peace and god damn quiet around here. You can deal with my father in the morning."

"Where are they going to stay?" Bubbles asks, notably staring at Boomer. I sigh, looking down at them.

"We have couches in our rooms, you can sleep there," I announce. "Follow me." Butch and Boomer look towards Brick first, waiting for his small nod of approval before following me and Bubbles up the stairs and down the hall.

I stop at the bathroom door.

"Buttercup?" I whisper, knocking as softly as possible. With my super hearing I can hear her quickly spit and rush water through her teeth before yanking open the door.

"What?" she asks, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. Attempting to look okay, though, it's obvious by her red eyes that she's not.

"Butch is going sleep in your room, alright?" I question, nervous of her response. She sighs, glancing up at him. He stares down at her, his eyes show some weird longing pitiful emotion, but I try not to think on it too much.

"Whatever," Buttercup responds, kicking off the door frame and leading him down the hall to her room, all signs of her once obvious weakness gone.

"Bubbles, can Boomer stay in your room?" I asks, my eyes not moving from Buttercup's closed door.

"Sure," she whispers, leading him to his room. I hear the door click softly as they disappear, leaving only me and Brick in the hallway. Sighing, I walk further down the hallway to my own room.

"Here," I speak, opening my door. "This is my room, you can sleep on the couch over there," I explain pointing the object in the corner of the room. Brick says nothing, he only watches me carefully as if I would break at the slightest touch.

"What?" I ask, uncomfortable under his gaze.

"I was uh…I was wondering," he muses uncomfortably.

"Yeah?" I respond, noting the way he avoids my gaze.

"What's messed up about you?" he questions, finally meeting my eyes.

"What?" I almost yell, wondering how the hell he had the audacity to ask me such a thing.

"Well, I mean, Bubbles cuts herself, that much was made obvious by the way her shirt was stained, and Buttercup has some kind of fucking eating disorder by the way she keeps vomiting, so what the hell is wrong with you?" he asks again, staring deeply into my pink eyes, it feels like he's staring straight into my soul with his red piercing eyes.

"Nothing," I say, automatically. I don't even have to think about it. "I don't do anything," I lie, clutching my wrist as if I can feel it burning right now. I lay down, turning out the light while I lay my head on my pillow.

"Hm," he mutters, leaning further into the couch. "So…What up with your pop's?"

"Nothing," I answer again, another automatic response. I can almost feel him roll his eyes in the darkness.

"Pinky, I have an ape and a transvestite devil as fathers and _they _were never that bad."

I almost laugh at his words, despite the situation. I bite my smiling lips as I feel him smirk.

"Well…The professor…He had some brain damage when we were kids. Ever since then he's been…well…different than he used to be," I state, sadness growing in my throat as memories of my childhood float through my head. I shake my head, making the memories disappear as I turn to his shape on the couch in the darkness. "Anyway, why do you care?"

"Well," he drawls, "I don't know…It's late I guess. Good night?"

"Good night, Brick," I whisper turning towards the ceiling and closing my eyes, finally getting the quiet I've been seeking.


	4. You are Pretty

_I hear your lies,_

_I know them too,_

_I know, I know,_

_They aren't true,_

_But the way you say them,_

_The stare you give, _

_I always believe you,_

_I believe every fib._

…

"Butch," I drawl, my eyes narrowed, "I said you could sleep on the couch."

"So?" he shrugs, refusing to move off my bed, "this bed is way more comfortable." I groan, I so don't need his attitude right now.

"Butch, off NOW," I command, glaring at him sharply. He simply smiles that annoying fucking smile of his as he looks me straight in the eyes.

"No," he whispers, successfully bringing my anger to an all time high. I tackle him, wrestling him on the bed as he continues to smile brightly at my frustration. After struggling for a while, I mange to push him off my bed and onto the floor. He glares up at me as I send him a taunting smirk.

"Fine," he sneers, "you _so_ fat, you need the _whole _bed anyway." He laughs quietly at his little joke, but I only stare at my stomach. His words swarm through my head, mixing in with my father's insults as I crush my shirt in my fist. Looking in the mirror, I pull my shirt up a little. _God,_ why am I _so_ fucking _fat_?

"Uh…What are you doing?" I hear Butch ask, staring at me oddly as I poke at my prudent ribs.

"I really am fat, aren't I?" I state, ignoring his own question. He looks towards me confused, an eyebrow raised as I continue to poke my fatty belly.

"What kind of question is that?" I roll my eyes, deciding to ignore him again as I go through a plan to get myself to be skinny.

"Okay…" I mumble, looking at my stomach carefully, "I can just stop eating. I'll start tomorrow, go on at least 3 jogs a day, only drink a sip of water each day for two weeks, then allow myself a piece of bread…yeah…that should work…" I bite my lip, pulling my shirt down a little. I glance at Butch only to see him staring at me in surprise. "I have to go to the bathroom," I announce, turning towards my door.

Butch is up in a second.

Standing in front of my door, he blocks my path.

"Are you serious?" he asks, looking down at me oddly. I fidget under his gaze, but only slightly.

"Of course I'm serious," I answer, "you said it yourself: I'm fat."

"That was a joke!" he yells, his eyes wild as he stares at me like I'm crazy…well…maybe I am a little crazy… "I thought you would slap me, not go all 'I need to lose weight' on me!"

I growl slightly, feeling the fat in my arm jiggle as I try to push Butch out of the way… or maybe that was just my muscle twitching…

"Butch, I _am_ fat!" I complain, pushing with all my might, "now move!"

"No," he argues sternly, his arms crossed as if my pushing doesn't affect him at all.

"Move!" I shout, losing strength in my arm fast.

"No," he answers simply, crossing his arms tighter. I groan, crossing my own arms as I glare up at him.

"Why won't you move?" I whine, panting slightly as all the energy in my body leaves- having been used to try to push Butch. He gulps visibly, gently placing a hand on my shoulder as if I would break at the slightest touch.

"If I let you go, you'll just go vomit again. You're not fat, at _all,_ you don't need to do this to yourself, Buttercup." I almost believe him when he says it like that…almost.

"But…you and dad said-"

"Forget what I said!" He shouts loudly, interrupting my thoughts with the pressure he puts on my shoulder as he tightens his grip. "And you dad…Your dad is just a fucking asshole, don't fucking listen to him." I avoid his gaze as I look to his hand, I see my fatty shoulder leaking through his fingertips as he grips me ever tighter.

"Okay," I mumbles, my attention lost to the fat in my shoulder.

"I mean it, Buttercup," I hear him growl, squeezing me shoulder even tighter. "You're not fat."

"Then what am I?" I challenge, finally meeting his eyes. He green eyes stare at mine for a moment, taken aback by my sudden outburst.

"You're…" he stops, unable to speak for a moment as he looks to the floor in thought. I stiffen, bracing myself for the shower of insults about to pour out of his mouth. He looks up again, meeting my eyes for a moment before leaning close to my ear. I can feel him breath as he loosens his grip on my shoulder.

"You're _skinny,_ beautiful, fantastic, lovely, pretty, and _skinny_…In fact you could _gain_ quite a few pounds." His voice hits my ear like silk, wrapping his thoughts into a present for my wounded brain to open and accept.

"So, I'm…" I stop my thought for a moment, breathless as the hand on my shoulder slides to my waist, pulling me into his chest as his nose nuzzles my shoulder and neck. "I-I'm pretty?" I stutter, nervous in this new position.

I feel him move his head to my ear again. I clutch the back of his shirt as he breathes slowly and deeply.

"You're the pretties girl in the whole world," he murmurs lowly. I exhale slowly, letting my nerves flow out of my system with it. Holding him close, I let his other arm wrap around me as I bury my face in his neck.

"Really?" I whisper, my own hot breath hitting his ear, "I'm pretty?"

"Pretty," he answers, lips brushing against my skin, "gorgeous," he whispers, kissing my skin softly, "stunning." I clutch his black hair in my hands, not wanting the embrace to end.

"No one's ever told me that before…" I find myself muttering. He answers with a simple shrug, not commenting on the little whine I make as he pulls out of the embrace.

"Well, you are," he states, as if it was the most obvious and simple thing in the world. "Trust me," he grins. That stupid, annoying, wonderful, little grin of his.

"Thanks," I whisper seriously, stilling feeling the goose bumps of his touch. "But you're still sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, I figured," he laughs, sitting on it without a complaint. I flip the light switch before heading back to my own bed.

"Good night, Butch."

"Night… Butterbabe."


	5. Why

_Pain,  
it's more a memory now,  
Not an emotion,  
it caused a lot of tears,  
A lot of commotion,  
I need more now,  
than I ever did then,  
No one understands,  
but still,  
I won't give in._

…

Boomer eyes me carefully as I sit on my bed. I bite my lip, wanting nothing more to cut my stomach, but unwilling to do it in front of him. Staring at a pair of scissors, I almost don't notice when he takes my hand.

"Hey, Bubbles," he whispers calmly. I merely nod in response, not having the will power to look away from the scissors, not having the will power to not think about it. Sighing, he removes his hand from mine. He stands, picking the object of my interest off the floor. He examines it, his fingers lightly running over the blood stained blade. Looking up, His blues meet mine, he seems to search into my soul for a moment before tossing the scissors carelessly in the trash.

I almost scream.

"Wh-why did you do that?" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. He merely shrugs, kicking the floor softly with his shoe as I pant heavily, unable to breathe without the blade by my side. I run towards the can, my arms reaching out for it as if I suddenly developed telekinesis along with my other powers and the blade would just come back to me if I thought about it enough. Boomer blocks my path, holding me tightly as I try to fight my way around him.

"Give them back!" I screech, only to flinch at the loud sound. I can't be too loud, I can't wake my father up again… But I want my scissors back…how can I cut myself without them? Do I have to get another one? Will I have to use a knife? I can't use a knife! That's way too obvious to bring to school…and what if knives cut deeper? I want my scissors! I-I…

"I need them," I whisper, the thought rolling off my tongue. I pant deeply, my hot breath hitting Boomer's neck. He doesn't seem to care.

"Why?" he asks, his own breath twisting into my blonde hair.

Why.

The endless question.

I don't know… I don't know why… It just... It helps. It helps in the most twisted messed up way. I feel pain to feel alive. I'm so sick of this numb feeling, I feel dead, buried even. I just… I need to feel something. I need to feel pain… That's the only emotion available to me anymore.

_Pain._

"I-I-I don't know," I stutter helpless, the tears coming like downpour. "I don't know, Boomer, I don't know!" I bury my face in my shirt, simply not caring that he used to be my enemy. I need _someone_, anyone…and Boomer's here.

"Sh," he murmurs, his lips hitting my temple, "everything will be fine."

I cry more, the tears just unable to stop. His words lock themselves in my memory, his tone, his scent…his everything.

_Everything will be fine._

_Please let everything be fine…_

"When did it start?" he asks suddenly, once my tears had appeared to die down a little.

"I don't remember," I whisper, taking the largest breathes I can, "maybe 5th grade or so…" I feel his grip tighten around my waist.

"How-" he sighs, stopping himself. Taking a moment, he thinks over his words. "How many…scars do you have?"

"I don't know," I answer, burying my face deeper into his shirt. "I can't tell."

"Show them to me," his command makes my eyes widen.

"What?" I asks, flabbergasted as I pull away from his chest to look at his face.

"I want to see them," he states, his blues eyes roaming over my pale face. Slowly, I pull away, his arms sliding off my waist silently as I softly roll my shirt up. I watch his eyes carefully as he stares at my cuts, each one long and deep save for a few. His hands shake as he brings them to my waist again. Boomer shallows visibly before placing a cool hand on my stomach. His fingertips trace over my cuts gently, leaving goose bumps in their path.

"Bubbles?" he mutters, looking from my cuts to my eyes.

"Yes," I croak, sniffling slightly as the tears start to return to my eyes.

"Everything will be fine, okay? You're going to be okay, you can get through this," he soothes, his voice drifting into my mind like butterflies. My eyes squeeze shut as his hands leave my stomach.

"I can't do this by myself," I whimper, sobbing quietly when he tugs my shirt back down.

"Who said you'd do this by yourself?" his voice taunts, lips brushing quickly against my cheek. "I'll be there for you, all the way." Opening my eyes, I stare into his in surprise.

"You will?" I ask, hands suddenly grabbing at his.

"Yeah, I will," Boomer answers, hands giving mine a squeeze. I bite my lip, looking over at the trash can again as I think.

"Pinky promise?" I beg bashfully, my hand leaving his to raise a pinky in the air. He smiles, blue eyes shinning as his pinky twirls around mine.

"Pinky promise." Smiling brightly, I lean quickly to his cheek and kiss him, lingering by his face for perhaps a bit too long.

"As for now," he announces, turning to shut off the lights, "goodnight, Bubbles."

"Good night, Boomer," I answer, slipping into my bed as he plops onto the couch.

_Everything will be fine._


	6. Weird

"_Shut up!" _

_He yelled._

_So I withdrew,_

_And held._

_All the thoughts I had._

"_Sit down."_

_He said._

_So I sat down,_

_Instead,_

_Of voicing any of the thoughts in my head._

"_You know," _

_He began._

_So I silently sighed,_

_Unable to do this again._

…

The sun shines too brightly on my face, forcing me to wake up much too early for my liking. Rubbing my eyes, I glance around the room, resting my interest on Butch as he sleeps on my couch a few feet away.

I sit up with a yawn, stretching as I whisper, "Butch?" He barely moves, burying his face in the cushions.

"Butch," I call, just a little louder, he does nothing, snoring slightly in spite of me. I groan, quickly losing my patience.

"BUTCH!" I screech, laughing to myself when he jolts awake with a very girly scream. He glares at him, grumbling softly as he shifts on the couch to sit.

"What was that for?" he questions, narrowing his eyes as I laugh harder.

"You wouldn't wake up!" I explain, clutching my sides.

"Whatever," he mumbles, stretching his arms before standing. My laughter dies down and an awkward silence floats in-between us.

"So…" I muses, willing a conversation to start.

"Yeah uh… What exactly is your dad going to do?" his question makes me uncomfortable and I look towards my hand as I play with my fingers nervously.

"I don't know…but we should get down there before he starts yelling." He nods in response, helping me off the bed and waiting outside my door for me to change and get ready.

"Alright," I mutter, opening the door, "let's go." Butch walks with me down the stairs and into the kitchen where we see Bubbles cooking and Boomer watching her carefully from the bar stools.

"Hey, guys," I greet, not at all enthusiastic.

"Hey," Boomer responds, his eyes not leaving Bubbles form. Bubbles glances at us, her blonde pigtails bouncing slightly with her head. She gives us a little nod of acknowledgment before returning her attention to making the eggs. I lean against the table while Butch simply stands beside me. We wait in silence as Bubbles continues to cook away for our father.

"Where the hell are Blossom and Brick?" speak of the devil, my father enters the room, an angered expression on his face as he looks over the four of us for an answer. I shrug, not willing to meet his eyes nor wanting to.

"BLOSSOM!" he suddenly screams, I notice Bubbles flinch at the noise. "GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Blossom immediately comes running down the stairs, Brick following slowly behind her.

"Blossom!" he greets, a bittersweet smile on his lips, "there you are! What took you so long, angel?" I almost puke right then and there at his words, his tone sickly sweet as Blossom kisses his cheek.

"Nothing," she answers, ignoring the way Brick stares at her.

"Well, whatever," our father speaks, "just set the table." Blossom nods, rushing to get the dishes out of the cabinet. I inwardly groan, I hate these days, the days when he's in a good mood. He twists his way inside your mind and as a father you think maybe, maybe you can forgive him, maybe everything will be okay…and then he gets angry again, ripping everything you have away, breaking all the promises he made…God…it hurts…it sucks!

"Buttercup?" he calls, shaking me away from my thoughts.

"Yes?" I respond, still not meeting his eyes.

"Go clean the living room," he commands without a thought. I stand still. I don't want to clean the living room, I'm so fucking sick of this!

"Buttercup, I said, get your fat ass in the living room now!" I clench my fists and does as he says, rushing away to dust the book selves. Sighing, I glance at the clock, unhappy to find that the bus doesn't come for 20 more minutes.

Sighing again, I continue to dust the selves, trying to ignore Butch and his brothers as they enter the room with my father.

"So what were you doing in my house last night?" I hear my dad ask.

"Blossom told you, we were here to see them," Brick responds so calm and collected, almost bored in his tone.

"Bull shit, you guys haven't talked in years and last time you did talk it was when you were five and trying to kill each other, why the fuck would they want to see you?"

"We have talked since then, shit-head," Butch sneers; he's such a fucking idiot. He'll just make my dad mad.

"Oh yeah? When?" My dad challenges.

"What's it to you?" Butch replies in the same tone.

"Butch, calm down," I hear Brick murmur, though I doubt my dad did.

"Jail, we talked to them when we were in jail," Boomer mumbles. I can almost feel the look my dad gives them.

"Jail, huh? What were you in jail for?"

"That's besides the point!"

"Butch, shut up! We were jailed for stealing," Brick announces.

"Stealing? Is that why my stuff in piled up over there?"

"No," Boomer answers immediately, "we were just here to see the girls."

"Uh-huh, I find it hard to believe you were here to see my fat-ass whores of daughters!"

"We were! Get it through your fat skull!" God, Butch, you're going to get yourself killed.

"What did you say? Did you call me fat? I'm not fat! If anyone in this house is fat, it would be Buttercup, not me!" I stop working, clenching my teeth as my father's comment worms its way into my mind.

"What did you call her?" Butch seethes, I can feel his anger ripple through the room in tidal waves.

"Buttercup is fat and ugly little creature," my father annunciates. A crash rings out and a turn around to see Butch on top of my dad as he continuously punches him.

"Buttercup!" my father calls out, "get this boy off of me!" I stand frozen as I watch Butch beat-up my father. Bubbles and Blossom enter the room, having heard the noise. They stare in shock as my father finally manages to wiggle away from the murderous Butch.

"Enough, ENOUGH!" he yells, "get out before I call the cops!" Butch and his brothers do nothing, Brick and Boomer still sitting on the couch.

"Did you hear me?" my father screams, "get the fuck out and take your fucked up brothers with you! Stay away from me and my shitty daughters, you hear me?"

"It's time to catch the bus," Blossom suddenly announces, grabbing her back-pack. She tosses me mine and I follow her and Bubbles out the door, the boys behind us, and our father screaming behind them.

We ignore him.

I sigh as we reach the stop, knowing we left early and will now have to wait.

"Sorry, babe," Butch whispers, his hands in his pockets as he stares at his shoes.

I smile slightly, "it's okay." He smirks back and grabs my hand, not caring as the bus roars in the distance.

"We can't go to school with you guys right now," Brick announces, ruining my mood a little.

"We'll try to get in," Boomer speaks, a hand through Bubbles' hair as she hugs him close.

"No promises though," Butch adds, saddening me further.

"We'll see you after school," Brick says, just as the bus comes into view. Butch squeezes my hand in a silent good-bye before leaving, Bubbles giving Boomer the shortest of kisses on his cheek.

How can this happen? At 5, we're worst enemies, at 10 we don't talk, at 15 we have a long talk while they sit in jail, and now, at 17, we let them hold out hands while we kiss their cheek?

Man, my life is weird.

* * *

To _VivianShadowGirl_: Yes, this is a remake of the old one.

Thanks everyone for the reviews! I love you! Hope you like this chapter!

**_please vote on the poll on my profile. :)_**


	7. Walk Home

_You look at a person,  
You think you know them,  
You don't.  
You don't know,  
How they feel,  
What they think,  
Sure they tell you,  
But they can lie,  
It's something I do,  
At least, some of the time._

_.._

French is so boring. I try to count the minutes, only to glance at the clock and find I've been counting the seconds.

Finally, the bell rings, indicating the end of this dreadful class. I rush out the door, meeting my sisters, Buttercup and Bubbles, at the front door. They give silent smiles in hello before walking with me out the doors. We walk in silence for a little while, no one wanting to start a conversation.

"BUTTERCUP!" a voice suddenly calls. We turn to see Butch rushing towards us, a huge smile ripping apart his face.

"Shut up, will you?" Buttercup responds, crossing her arms as he stands before her. He leans towards her, whispering something I can't hear even with my super hearing. Buttercup smiles slightly as he retreats, letting him lead her away down the road. I sigh as I turn to Bubbles.

"Guess we better start walking too," I announce. Bubbles bites her lip as she looks at her shoes, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Where's Boomer? They said they'd all be here, not just Butch…"

"Bubbles, relax," I soothe, holding the temptation to roll my eyes at her worries, "they'll be here." She shifts uncomfortably, not seeming to believe me, but continues to walk with me none the less.

"Blossom," she whispers, eyes locked on the road ahead of us.

"Yes?" I answer.

"I'm…I'm kind of scared to go home, he was really angry when we left…"

"Bubbles," I speak, sounding more confident than I feel, "we'll be fine! We always are!" my smile hurts it's so fake. Bubbles simply nods, probably seeing right through my lies of encouragement. We continue to walk in silence for a little while, neither of us daring to look at the other.

"Hey!" a voice calls. Turning around, I'm happy to find Brick and Boomer standing there.

"Boomer!" Bubbles yells, suddenly exceedingly happy as she runs into his open arms. "I missed you!" He grins, taking her hand as they walk off together, practically dancing down the road. I turn to Brick awkwardly as he stares back, equally uncomfortable.

"So…how was school?" he asks, trying to start a conversation.

"Fine, boring," I shrug, willing myself to not pull my hand away when he takes it in his. I turn my head away from him as we keep walking. We walk for a little while and I'm surprised to find I don't mind his presence so much…plus his hand is really warm and surprisingly soft.

"I'm sorry," he mutters softly, reminding me of events I sought to forget, "about this morning."

"It's okay," I answer quickly, wanting the subject to just go away and disappear.

"No!" he shouts, suddenly becoming angry as halts our walking, still tightly gripping my hand. "You freaked out! You…Obviously it's not 'okay!' Look, I'm sorry, I just…Just…" he sighs, letting go of my hand to lift his hat and run his hand through his red hair.

"Brick, I…" I stop, allowing myself a deep breathe before continuing. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I didn't really think you would care, to be honest. We haven't talked since we were 15 and before than we always fought! How can you expect me to trust you so easily!"

"I learned to trust you!" he counters, "when you came to our jail cell and told us you and your sisters were going to bust us out, we weren't sure what to believe! For all we knew, you were going to take us back to your professor father to run experiments on us, or bring us to Mojo, or Him, or the mayor, fuck, I don't know! But when you spoke to me, I believed you, I trusted you, why can't you do the same?"

"I don't know!" I scream, tears threatening to fall, though I don't know why. It just hurts, physically, emotionally, it just… it all hurts.

_What the hell is wrong with you?_

_Nothing_

Why did I lie? Why couldn't I tell him?

…he trusts me…

_Blossom?_

_Brick!_

_What are you doing?_

_Nothing!_

_Don't give me that, are you…Are you burning yourself?_

_No!_

_Blossom, give me that hair straightener!_

_No!_

_Blossom!_

_No! I need this, Brick, I need this!_

_No, you don't! Blossom, please stop doing this!_

…_no…I can't…_

_BLOSSOM GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!_

"Brick! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I cry, my knees giving out causing me to almost fall. Brick catches me and holds me close as I sob, seeming to not care as I soak his shirt. "I just… I lied because it was easy, I lied because I always lie, Brick! I lie to myself, I tell myself that it's okay, what I do…but it's not. It's awful, just awful, isn't it? I'm awful. I'm terrible. Everyone hates me, my sisters don't believe me anymore, but I don't see why they should… All I do is lie to them. Tell them it'll be fine, when I know, Brick, I know it won't! … I just didn't know how to deal with it anymore, and that burning feeling…it helped, I don't know why, but it helped…in the sickest most twisted way. I'm sorry I didn't tell you…I'm sorry…"

"Blossom," he whispers, his words tangling themselves in my hair before finally entering my mind, "it's okay. I understand, Blossom, I get it. I'll help you though this, okay? Just trust me, I can help you."

"I do trust you, Brick, I do…" I murmur, burying myself deeper into his chest.

"Come on," he whispers, gently tugging at one of my hands, "we should get you home." I nod, gripping my hand as we continue to walk down the sidewalk.

I'm think I feel better already.


	8. ZzZzZzZzZzZz

_Please Please_

_don't don't _

_I see how it must go._

_Leave Leave_

_run run_

_Your life here is all but done._

_Never Never_

_cry cry_

_People say spiteful goodbyes._

_They leave for now,_

_They leave forever,_

_I guess,_

_People just never know any better._

…

"So," I muse, glancing up at the clouds while Butch and I walk down the paved sidewalk, "why did you beat up my dad?"

Butch scoffs, "because your dad is a bitch." I sigh and roll my eyes, deciding to neither agree nor disagree.

"Whatever," I mutter, turning my gaze from the sky to the ground.

"He is and you know it," Butch argues, "always calling you fat and shit, he is a pathetic human bug. Why don't you just fucking leave?"

"We're going to," I announce, feeling his shocked gaze graze my back while I stare at my shoes. "We're just waiting until we're 18, so we're legally adults and stuff."

"But that's a year from now," he murmurs, silently taking my hand while I refuse to meet his eyes.

"I know," I answer, keeping my eyes on the path ahead of me while we continue to slowly make our way back to hell.

We arrive at the house just in time to see Bubbles jump straight into Boomer's arms while they laugh. Butch releases my hand while Bubbles and Boomer whisper something I don't really care about.

"You leaving now?" I ask, a little bit of venom slipping into my voice, I don't want to be alone…with _him_, again.

"Yeah," he sighs, stuffing his warm hands inside his pockets, "unless you want me to barge in there and kill your dad, 'cause you know I'd be happy to." I breathe a laugh, punching his arm playfully while he smiles at me, his green eyes bright with mischief.

"Well, later!" Butch calls, walking over to Brick as Blossom heads over to us. They stand at the end of the street for a moment, waiting for Boomer because Bubbles seems to be unable to let him go. I stare at Butch, noticing the wink he gives me just before Boomer arrives next to them and they walk away, leaving us to deal with the monster we had left behind in the morning.

Bubbles runs behind me, clutching my shirt as we slowly walk towards our door. Blossom opens it slowly, trying not to draw attention to our entrance.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" I suppress a groan, narrowing my green eyes as I stare in his direction.

"We were at school," Blossom answers softly, ignoring his angry demeanor.

"Whatever, I don't want to hear it," he scoffs, crossing his arms as he circles around us, like a vulture just waiting for its prey to give up and die. "Blossom, clean the living room, it's a fucking pigsty in there!" no shit, he's the only one that ever uses the living room. "Bubbles do the dishes from this morning! Honestly, don't you know to clean up after yourself!" I resist the urge to roll my eyes and scoff, hypocrite, lair... We haven't eaten breakfast here since we were six, or so, not to mention we've been gone all day. I know perfectly well, as do my sisters, that any dishes in that room are from him and not us.

We don't say anything, though.

"Buttercup!" he yells, causing my attention to go towards his ugly face, "you clean the bathroom." I want to hit him, I want to hit him so _badly_. He knows, doesn't he? He knows what I do, he gave me the bathroom to mock me, didn't he?

Bastard.

"GO! NOW!" he shouts, noticing our lack of movement at his commands, "I SAID NOW YOU LAZY ASSES!"

I head upstairs to the bathroom, unsure as to whether my sisters obeyed his commands or not.

I sigh, tyring to gather all my self-restraint so I can force myself to clean the bathroom and _not _vomit.

I even ate a school lunch today.

It felt so weird.

I try to finish the room quickly, avoiding looking in the mirror at all because I know that if I do, I'll just see myself as really fat and vomit again.

Once finished, I head to my room, passing my sisters in the hall, they seem fine from what I can tell by looking.

I enter my room, holding back the temptation to slam the door close. Instead, the door shuts with a soft click and I fall upon my bed with much the same sound.

I need to sleep.

…

ZzZzZzZzZz

…

"Hey, hey, babe, BC, wake up! BABE!"

"AH-" a hand covers my mouth before I have the chance to scream any louder. I fight the grip, getting ready to blast the figure with my eye beams when the hand suddenly turns me to see the face of my captor.

"Butch!" I whisper-yell, ripping his hand off my mouth. He grins, stifling a laugh at my shocked expression. "What are you doing here?"

"You really thought we would wait until tomorrow to see you guys?" he asks, making himself perfectly at home on my bed.

"Uh, yeah," I answer incredulously, "I did."

"Well," he smiles, quickly tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, "here we are!" I roll my eyes, much too tired to deal with this right now. I yawn, shifting my body away from his as my eyes slowly start to close again, softly dragging me back to my dream. I hear him shift on my bed and spoon my back, his hand resting on my stomach as his mouth rests much to close to my ear.

"So," he whispers, each one of his breathes intensified against my skin, "how did today go?" I sigh, not wanting to see his disappointment.

"I ate," I mumble, burying my face in my pillow.

"Good," he answers, hands gently playing with my hair.

"I vomited too, though." I feel his hands stop at my words. He groans quietly, presumably thinking for a moment before making a response.

"It's alright," he finally whispers, his hands returning to my waist, "we'll get through this, we can do anything."

I sigh, this is so dumb. I mean, yeah we helped them out of jail and whatever, talked to them for a bit, but that was it. Why the hell are they being so overly helpful?

"Butch?" I murmur, testing to see if he's still awake.

"What?" he answers, I pause, wondering how to word my question before responding.

"Why the hell are you and your brothers helping us?"

"Well," he mutters, holding me a little tighter, "you helped us out of jail and shit."

"Don't give me that, I mean, if you just wanted to repay us for that you could help us runaway later when we're 18, why are you helping us through our dumb depression or whatever this is too?"

Butch groans, rolling away from me at the question.

"Does this really matter? Just shut up and sleep..."

"Yes, Butch," I comment sternly, "this does matter."

"Fine, fine, if I tell you why we're helping you guys out than you tell me why you guys helped us out of jail in the first place!"

"What?" I ask, what the hell? Why the...just...what?

"Come on, why did you help us out of jail? We were freaking worst enemies! The last time we saw each other before that when we were trying to _kill_ each other...Why did you break us out of there?"

Damn it...he has a good point. Fuck, I don't even remember why we decided to break them out. It was Bubbles' concern and we all just sort of... agreed.

...though I guess...we must of had some reason to agree...

"I don't...know...why we broke you guys out," I whisper. Butch smirks, laughing at me with his eyes as he rest his hands behind his head.

"Exactly," he answers, "your reason for breaking us out and our reason for helping you is the same."

"But I don't know what that reason is!"

"That's the point, babe."

"Whatever, I'm going to sleep."

"My god..finally."

"Shut up."

"Night, babe."

"...night."

…

ZzZzZzZzZzZz

...


End file.
